Eulogy
by TB's LMC
Summary: Virgil shares his innermost thoughts and feelings after the death of his father. Short one-shot written a great many years ago, one of my earliest stories, and has been archived at the Tracy Island Chronicles.


_Summary: Virgil shares his innermost thoughts and feelings after the death of his father._

_Author's Note: This was written a great many years ago, one of my earliest stories. It's been archived at the Tracy Island Chronicles._

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><p><strong>EULOGY<strong>

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><p>I knew it would happen one day. We all knew it. But...it feels like it was too soon. Far too soon. How can it be that he's gone? How can we do this without him?<p>

His silent strength. His quiet determination. His steadfast love. Sending us out time after time, knowing in an instant one of us could be gone. Just like that. But now? Now he's the one who's gone. I can't bear it. I can't bear the thought of it without him. He was everything to me. He was my hero. He was my rock. He was my anchor.

He was my father.

We all dedicated our lives to this dream of his. We sacrificed everything yet gained more than we could ever have hoped for in a 'normal' life. We didn't just devote ourselves to saving lives when we signed on to his dream. We devoted ourselves always and forever to he who now walks among the stars.

And so I know we will continue. We will carry on. We will save more lives. We will drop everything at a moment's notice the minute a faraway voice cries out for help. We will do it all, but the meaning for us has changed. I can see it in their eyes as we stand here near the beach on this island. This island which used to be the most beautiful place on Earth, but which now looks ugly to me, as if its very soul has gone along with the man who breathed life into its jagged cliffs and swaying palms.

The villa stands in silent mourning as the sun rises over our small corner of the world. This haven, this secret base of International Rescue, seems a prison now. We will never abandon his dream or his memory. But we are sick to think of what lies in store. We are solid, young and strong, but we know we will be the last. There must, of necessity, be an end to it all. When the last of us struggles to aid those in crisis for the final time, it will be forever gone. Then the whole world will finally learn our true identities.

But we have planned for that, of course. The last one of us left breathing will destroy everything my father built. Every square inch will be demolished. Father thought of that, too. He thought of everything. Except he never thought to tell us what to do if he suddenly weren't here to direct us.

We have relied upon his flawless logic and fearless leadership for so very many years. We are not old, but we are no longer those brash young men in our twenties and thirties who felt indestructible. Father's death has brought home to us how human we really are. That we will not last forever. That nothing lasts forever. Not even International Rescue.

I feel the tears streaming down my face as our silent vigil continues. None of us can bear to leave the freshly sealed concrete vault which now holds the empty shell that is my father's body. There is an ornate bench in front of the vault, but I cannot bear to go near it.

I think back to two days after his death. His will was long and difficult to hear. I suppose it was his way of telling us what he wanted to do while at the same time not. My eyes lose focus as I recall the day we sat in the Lounge, still in shock over his passing. His lawyer had gathered us for the reading of the will. I doubt any of us heard a word the man said.

There were two wills, actually. The first was the public will, to be read by the attorney. The second was one kept hidden in Father's safe. We'd all known about it, and Father had ordered that Scott should read it when the time came, when no one but those living on Tracy Island were present. I never had an eidetic memory, but I recall every word with perfect clarity, even the choked voice that was so unlike my oldest brother's, but came from his throat just the same.

In this second will, Father praised us each for our accomplishments and told us what he admired most about us as men. He wrote down for us the things he could never say in person. How I wish now that I could go back and tell him what he meant to me...to all of us. But I'll never get that chance. None of us will.

Father is gone. The man behind International Rescue is gone. Our hero is gone.

But his legacy lives on. As the others begin walking sadly away, my eyes meet those of my oldest brother, Scott. I see within those dark blue orbs something that mirrors the flame within my own. Father is not gone. He lives on through each of us, his sons. His fire burns within our souls; his passion for saving others is shared by those he left behind. His dedication, his loyalty, his honor...these are badges we wear proudly.

Scott nods at me, almost imperceptibly, and suddenly I know it will be all right. Scott is our leader now, and although he can never replace Father, and would never attempt such a thing, he will lead us all with the same commitment, love and courage our father harbored within.

Father, you may have left us on our own...but you did not leave us alone. May the gods bless your spirit and may you watch over us all from your eternal resting place. I will miss you, Father.

As Scott approaches me, he reaches out and grasps my hand in silence, slowly pulling me away from the grave by the sea. I look into his eyes, and then glance back at Father's tomb once more. Yes, I'll miss you. More than you'll ever know.

And Dad? I love you.


End file.
